Angelo: Boss, you good? Need me to come back to the hospital?
Me: I’m fine. Stay at the main house with the Wesleys. Make sure everything’s running smooth.
Angelo: You got it. Nick taking care of you?
I stared at that message for a moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Since moving to Montana, Angelo and I had spent a lot more time together. We weren’t friends back in Newark. He was just an employee. But out here… something had changed.
Me: Yeah. He’s a good man.
Angelo: Happy to hear it, boss.
I set my phone down, letting my head sink back against the pillow. The pain medication was starting to kick in, making everything feel soft around the edges. My eyelids grew heavy, and I found myself drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness as images of Nick’s warm smile filled my mind.
Chapter 10
Nick
“Just take it easy,” I said as I helped Dante out of his black SUV. “It’s not a race.”
“Will you stop treating me like an old lady?” he growled. “I’m fine.”
“You fractured three ribs two days ago. You arenotokay.”
I glared at him, adjusting my grip on his arm as we made our way toward the tiny house. “The doctor said bed rest for at least two weeks. Do you know what bed rest means?”
“It means lying in bed doing nothing while the ranch falls apart.”
“Angelo and I can handle it.”
“Angelo can barely count to ten,” Dante shot back, but he was leaning on me more than he probably wanted to admit. Each step made him wince, even though he was trying to hide it.
I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to point out that he was the one who’d brought Angelo along in the first place. We made it up the steps to the tiny house, and I fumbled with the door, keeping one hand on Dante to make sure he didn’t fall over.
Inside, everything looked exactly as we’d left it that morning. Had it really only been two days? It felt like a lifetime had passedsince I’d watched that heifer charge, since I’d seen Dante hit the ground.
“Couch or bed?” I asked.
“Bed. If I’m going to be treated like an invalid, I might as well be comfortable.”
I helped him down the hallway, acutely aware of how close we were, how my hand was wrapped around his waist, how his body heat seeped through his shirt. When we reached the bedroom, I eased him down onto the mattress, watching as he tried not to grimace.
“Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds?”
“Nick.” He caught my wrist, his fingers warm against my skin. “Stop fussing. I’m not dying.”
“You could’ve died,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I’d intended. “Those ribs could’ve punctured a lung or?—”
“But they didn’t.” His dark eyes held mine, and I saw something there that made my pulse quicken. “I’m fine. Banged up, but fine.”
I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve put some distance between us. But I couldn’t seem to make myself move.
“You’re an idiot,” I said quietly.
“So you keep telling me.” His thumb brushed over the inside of my wrist, and I felt the touch all the way down to my toes. “But you’re still here.”
“Someone has to make sure you don’t do something stupid.”
“Like what?”
